
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13731219.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Other
  Fandom:
      South_Park, South_Park_RPF
  Relationship:
      Craig_Tucker/Tweek_Tweak
  Character:
      Craig_Tucker, Tweek_Tweak, Clyde_Donovan, Token_Black, Jimmy_Valmer,
      Timmy_Burch, Stan_Marsh, Kyle_Broflovski, Kenny_McCormick, Eric_Cartman,
      Butters_Stotch, Wendy_Testaburger, Heidi_Turner, Bebe_Stevens, Red_(South
      Park)
  Additional Tags:
      mental_asylum_au, Mental_Illness, Eating_Disorders, Substance_Abuse,
      Underage_Drinking, Underage_Drug_Use, Underage_Smoking, underage_sex_
      (possible/eventual), Trauma, Recovery, Relapsing, withdrawl, Drug
      Addiction, Slow_Burn, but_not_too_slow, Violence, Blood_and_Gore, Body
      Horror, Mutilation, Fights, Other_Additional_Tags_to_Be_Added
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-19 Chapters: 1/? Words: 1639
****** I'll Burn You Down (if you build me back up) ******
by BirchSong
Summary
     Murder was more like a house- a big house full of corridors and other
     floors and many rooms. Murder had blinding fluorescent lights and
     smoke-grey walls with peeling paint and crooked pearly floors. Murder
     was full of chatter and laughter from its patients who sheltered in
     its harsh light in the day and screaming, wailing freaks who cried of
     loneliness at night. Murder was many things, but most importantly,
     Murder was home.
     -
     Or, an Asylum AU of South Park. In which all of the main characters
     either work or are being treated at a mental health facility for
     youth. Contains mainly Creek, but I may add other ships depending on
     what the readers want.
     Contains- Extreme violence, drug addiction/abuse, mentioned/implied
     child abuse, trauma, sexual humor, possible sexual situations, and a
     ton of cussing. (Also all main characters are 14-16 so it's all
     underage.)
When Craig first came to the hospital, he couldn't believe his eyes.  It was
almost ironic, in some twisted, dark way.
 
'Welcome to St. Murder's Psychiatric Center for Troubled Youth!'  Screamed a
large poster on the front door, with a voice scarily akin to his mother's. 
 
More like 'St. Murder's Asylum for Nutsos and Kids Parents Don't Want Anymore'.
That sounded better.
 
First of all, who though naming their hospital 'Murder' was even a good idea?
That was screaming for something to happen. Oh well. Craig could get used to
it. Didn't matter. What mattered was that they didn't let him bring ANYTHING
with him and that his mother was sobbing while signing over a release form. God
her cries were annoying. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
She finally inhaled and shakily pushed the form through a slot under the glass
window, and turned back to sit by her son. Her strawberry blonde hair was
straightened and parted, and her makeup was running now. God forbid she look
anything less than a queen for this- God forbid she not dress up for the day
she would enter her son into an asylum. She was too good for that now. Craig
watched her intensely, taking everything in. This might be the last time he
would see her for a while, not that he cared much. The last time she saw Craig
was about two months ago; after the incident, the final straw as his father put
it simply, she couldn't even bare to give him eye contact. Even now she was
blowing her nose and wiping her eyes, staring at the patterned linoleum tiles.
She shuffled her feet and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, before
scratching at her collarbone.
The sound was intense, burning at Craig's ears and making him jump. His breath
hitched and he frowned, sound still echoing inside his ear. Skin rubbing on
skin, nail rubbing on skin, nail rubbing on nail, no, no, no-
She herself jumped, and looked at him- not really looked, but glanced at the
space beside his head. His gaze darkened and he stared directly into her blue
spheres, challenging her. Her lips parted for a mere moment, questioning if she
should say something but she turned back too soon and sniffled softly.
Craig stared at her until her oh so predictable movements bored him and he
looked around the waiting room, actually taking it all in. Brand new chairs
with black legs and beige cushions, light grey walls with paint that still
looked fresh, bright white lights overhead that burned if Craig stared too
long, pearly silver floors with ash colored specks, the metal doors with glass
windows that eagerly welcomed them in (although on the interior had metal locks
and magnets),  the bookshelves lined with magazines full of irrelevant stories
on celebrities (of course) and brochures on health, the glass window on the
other side of the room that revealed a tired-looking secretary of some sort,
and finally, the ominous white door beside the window.
Craig decided for a moment, before picking the secretary-person to study.
Greying blond hair pinned back into a tight bun, glasses too small for her
face, wrinkles by her eyes and on her forehead, mouth clasped taught as if she
was holding something back. Something big. She stared down at what he guessed
was his papers, before curiously glancing up and meeting Craig's eyes. Deep
brown with golden specks. 
She seemed to murmur something before looking down again and scribbling
something with a black ballpoint pen. She went to the back of what probably was
an office, and left.
Craig had begun simultaneously to count the specks on the floor tiles and his
mother's quick breaths when they finally called for them. The white door
opened, and a tall man in his early thirties smiled in their direction. Dark
hair brushed back into a quiff. Ew. Dark eyes and tan skin. Small scar over one
of his thick brows. Boring. White coat and blue outfit beneath. 
"Craig Tucker?"
His mother immediately rose to her feet and walked up to greet the man, not
even waiting for Craig. Expected. He gave it a minute of watching the man
before he followed her, shoulders tensing. The doctor immediately met his eyes,
uncomfortably. He grinned, showing coffee-stained straight teeth. 
"You must be Craig."
No shit, asshole.
"Obviously."
"Great," the doctor continued, ignoring his neutral tone. "I'm Dr. Hollins,
I'll be reviewing your results from your last appointment at..." He glanced at
his clipboard and flipped through a few pages. "Hell's Pass." 
The name was almost as ironic as the name of this hospital. 
Dr. Hollins seemed to falter for a second, before perking back up. 
 "And, I'll be going over everything with mom to assure you both of your
schedule for your stay here."
He opened the door for them, letting them both through and closing it firmly
behind them. Hollins led the way down an achingly long hall, turning a few
corners before finally stopping at a door marked '11C'. Craig couldn't help but
notice the dimmer lighting and increasing amounts of posters- most of which
appeared irrelevant to a mental health hospital.
Dr. Hollins finally found his keys and opened the door. He clapped and the
lights went on, and he directed them in. 
He locked the door behind them and gestured for the both of them to sit. Craig
sat with a seat between him and his mother, not wanting the smell of her sharp
perfume to burn his nose. God she wore so much. 
Hollins sat down on a rolling chair across from them, pulling out his clipboard
again. Craig's fingers twitched.
"Alright, so tell me if this is all correct. Craig Tucker, male, 15 years old,
birthday is March 1st, Caucasian."
Craig's mother nodded and murmured 'Yes', but Hollins' eyes were trained on
Craig. Craig blinked back at him and nodded. 
"Nice.....do you have black hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and a birthmark on your
back? Are your 5'8 and do you weigh 126 lbs?"
Craig stared back in confusion. Wasn't that obvious.
"I'm 5'10."
Dr. Hollins nodded and wrote something down.
"Just a few more. Do you have a sister named Tricia Tucker? A father named
Thomas Tucker and a mother named Laura Tucker? Any pets?"
These were just getting weirder. Didn't Craig answer these last month?
"What are their names?"
"Stripe. 
Dr. Hollins nodded. "Is that it?"
"Yes. They're all dead."
Hollins glanced up again and went back to writing whatever it was. "Any close
friends?"
Craig stopped to think, probably for a few minutes. When he looked up, his
mother and the doctor both had their eyes on Craig. (Well, if looking right
above him was considered that his mother counted.) She whispered his name.
"Clyde. "
"Describe him."
"No."
Craig expected him to demand an answer but he simply finished writing and
leaned forward a little.
Craig tilted his head and casually raised his middle finger to Dr. Hollins.
"Craig!" His mother scolded harshly, still evading his eyes.
Hollins ignored it.
"Based on your last appointment, we have reason to believe you have some sort
of personality disorder. According to Dr. Belle's notes, you have strong
indications of what could be considered psychopathy."
His mother audibly choked. 
"How does this make you feel Craig?'
"I don't care."
"The marked symptoms we've been given are antisocial behavior, lack of feeling
remorse or empathy for others, passive-aggressive attitude, narcissistic views
of yourself. and depressive mood changes. Does this mean anything to you? Does
anything sound wrong or unlike you?"
Craig shrugged. Hollins continued.
"Now we also may be looking at some sort of neurological disorder, but that
needs more testing before a diagnosis can happen. For now, can you tell me
about the first time you....."
===============================================================================
 
 
The rest of the 'appointment' went by in a blur, with most of his answers being
nods or shrugs (and middle fingers). That seemed to be sufficient, or this
doctor didn't care enough either. Oh well. 
 
His mother was now standing up shaking his hand and thanking him immensely.
Hollins smiled warmly (too warmly) and the three of them left the room. They
walked down the hall in silence, following the doctor without question. 
So, Craig decided to break the silence.
"This is stupid."
"Why so?" 
Damn doctors, always asking questions. Why couldn't they just let things be
obvious?
"Those questions, they're on my file. I've already answered them. Why is
relevant I answer again? Did your silly guide to being a shrink say I need to
repeat myself to reveal something deep about my personality or something?
That's dumb as fuck."
His mother gasped sharply and turn on her heels to glare at the side of his
head. "Craig! How dare you!"
"Mrs. Tucker, really it's fine. I'm used to it. Hollins glanced back at them to
give a reassuring smile. His mother wasn't satisfied with just that.
"Apologize right now or so help me-"
"No. Fuck that."
She inhaled sharply, but before an argument could start, Hollins had stopped at
a pair of double doors and was facing them.
"I'm afraid it's time." He offered a soft smile. He was always smiling,
weirdo. 
She looked down at her feet, grip on her hands tightening until her knuckles
burned bone-white.
Craig stiffened as she hesitantly raised a hand, stopped, and then rested it on
Craig's shoulder. 
"Be good now. Promise me at least that." Her voice so much softer, and she gave
Craig a soft peck on his forehead. She didn't wait for a reply or a
reaction.Just like that she was gone, walking down the hall. Craig didn't look
back.
Hollins gave him a few seconds before he said anything. "You ready?"
Craig shrugged. No.
The doors opened.
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